Hatred, Hotels and Housekeeping
by chickenwriter
Summary: There is hatred. A Hotel. And some housekeepers. You'll like it, I think. If I give too much away, you won't want to read it. You'll already know the plot!


Hatred, Hotels and Housekeeping

_Rating: T_

Oneshot, unless something strikes me for a very long flashback. Any ideas?

Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated. I love to know who actually_ read_ my story.

"I hate you!" I shouted, my face red with anger. I rolled up the partition between the driver and myself. We'd been silent in the limo for the past fifteen minutes. I watched the driver jump as I shouted. I felt bad for Joseph. I hadn't meant to scare him.

"Good!" He yelled back, "You should, because I hate myself, too!"

"Oh, shut up! Stop making this about you." He looked away. We fought far too much for our own good. This time, husband and wife fought about the other woman. Only because I could no longer turn the other way. They had been caught in a housekeeping closet in the basement, Anne pressed against the door, and Rupert covering her naked body with his own. I could see the headlines unfold before my eyes. 'King and Queen - A broken story.' 'Other Woman for Childless King and Queen.' 'The Maid Tells All.' The problem was that the headlines would be right. We were childless, there was an 'Other Woman' and she _was_ the maid. Anne Bizer was the head of housekeeping. Rupert explained that he wasn't in love with her, although she loved him. Which, was coincidentally how I felt about Rupert. However, I still felt it necessary to try and save our periled, albeit short, marriage. Which was precisely the reason I was screaming at him on our third anniversary. In my twenty-one-year-old mind, it all made sense. He would stop screwing the head of housekeeping, and we would go back to trying to have children. As many times as I had tried to ask nicely that he be faithful, it had always seemed to fall on deaf ears. I would never let my feelings for another man come into the picture so bluntly. I would never even _mention_ Joseph to Rupert. I did have very strong feelings for my security guard, but I would NEVER act on those feelings. "Rupert, this isn't about you _or _me. This is about us. Somehow, we need to produce an heir between the two of us. Not between you and Anna."

"Anne." He corrected. I stamped my foot. "Clarisse, darling . . . "

"Don't you call me 'darling'." I hissed. I had never been so angry at a person in my entire life. "How could you let this get out?" He shrugged.

"I dunno."

"You don't know?" I had lowered my voice to a room temperature tone. "Well, that's fantastic. Didn't you think of the fact that the housekeeping closet would be used by other maids between the hours of two and four in the afternoon, or are you just daft?"

"Well, I . . . "

"Chelsea is _new,_ Rupert." Chelsea was the maid that was on a week long trial period before we hired her for the south wing of the castle. She hadn't signed the confidentiality papers until this afternoon. A story of infidelity could probably fetch big bucks if you leaked it. "God knows who she was sent here by, perhaps the 'Genovian Daily' or maybe 'Kathleen Dunlevy's Morning Report' that would be perfect. Then she can tell her daughter co-host, Elsie."

"I don't think Chelsea was sent by anyone Clarisse."

"And why not?"

"She's Anne's sister." I let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh, wonderful!"

"Well, it's better than the alternative." I nodded slightly, he was right, she was far less likely to tell on her sister. I was silent, millions of thoughts racing by at once. We sat and stared out the window for what seemed like hours. Paris seemed a good place to go away together for a while. I moved my legs and turned up the air conditioning. It had suddenly become very warm in the car, and my arms were now sticking to the leather of the seats.

"Rupert?" My voice was soft and trembling.

"Yes?"

"Why am I not enough?" He closed his eyes and sank back against the now cooled leather of the seat. He seemed to be thinking very carefully about his answer.

"I don't know. You should be, Clarisse. I love you. I truly do." Tears sprang to my eyes as he pulled me close. Never in my life had he been so tender and loving.

"I'm sorry, Rupert."

"Why?" He sounded very confused.

"I don't feel that way about you." I could tell the words stung him, he tensed, and let his arms drop.

"That was never part of the deal, Clarisse. Don't feel like it has to be now." He kissed my temple, and I pulled away.

"Please stop seeing her." I begged.

"I don't think I can." My mouth dropped open, I shut it immediately, it was not appropriate for a queen to appear stunned.

"I beg your pardon?" He did not answer my question. "Answer this, then, Rupert. What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Who do I get to be with in a broom closet? Who do I get to be caught with in our bed? Who do I get to make love to when I haven't had enough?"

"Joseph?" He had a smart-ass grin on his face that made me want to smack him, but the car veering off the road distracted me. I rolled down the partition.

"Are you all right?" I asked him. Joseph took a deep breath.

"Sorry, Your majesties. Uh . . . there was a squirrel."

"Ah." I nodded calmly, although my mind was giggling like a school girl. Joseph took the liberty of rolling up the barrier between us. "I'm done discussing this, Rupert." I did have a woman's 'I'm always right' point of view, and this was one of those times where that showed.

"So I have turned the tables, and called _you_ out, and now we're done? I figured as much."

"Just stop it." I lowered my voice so that the man in the front could not hear.

"Clarisse, I'm not stupid, I see how you look at him."

"Knock it off. Please." I begged, slipping off my heels and pulling my legs up to my chest like a child afraid of the monsters under the bed.

"Fine. We're almost there, anyway. We can kiss and make up." He ran his hand up my leg.

"I will do my duty, but I will not kiss you. That wasn't in the deal either." My voice was terse as I let my legs slide to the floor.

"Fine." He held up his hands. Defeat.

--

The hotel was not what we needed. Even though we were on a private top floor penthouse suite, with no one above, below or next to us, we knew that _someone_ would be able to hear us. Joseph was stationed in the same room, with the instruction that he not leave his designated bedroom/bathroom (completely opposite the position of ours) unless he knocked, and waited for one of us to come retrieve him. Our privacy was almost as key as our safety.

"I hate this." I muttered.

"You hate everything."

"Damn right." I mumbled incoherently. I wasn't one to usually swear aloud.

"This hotel arrangement is completely lacking privacy." I sighed.

"Yes, that's what I was hinting at." Suddenly hands enveloped me and I felt Rupert's lips at my ear.

"No." I pushed him off. "I told you I would do my duty, and that would be all." So I lay down and let him strip me of my clothes taking my pride off with the fabric. He undressed next to the bed and proceeded. When he had collapsed on top of me, I began to sob. He silently got up, and took his clothes with him to the next room. "How did I get here? Why did I trade love for _this_?" I wondered aloud. The covers shielded me from the evilness of the outside world. I knew the answer. I was born to fulfil this duty. It was my job, and I hated it. My mind wandered as I got up out of bed and ran. The suite was big enough for me to run to the other side, past the kitchen, the private elevator and the in-ground whirlpool, right to his door. I knocked, pulling the sheet tighter around me. It was the only thing I had considered grabbing on my way to finish what Rupert and I had started.

"Your majesty?" Joseph's eyes all but popped out of his head. Sobs began to rack my body again. "What's the matter?" I threw my body against his, leaving him no choice but to embrace me. He lifted me effortlessly and let me lean against his chest as he transferred me to the couch. I sobbed for at least ten minutes before he looked me in the eyes.

"Three years of pain, Clarisse, it's about time you let it go." I nodded, he knew exactly why I was crying. "But you can't run to me again. Not now that Rupert's affair got out."

"I can. And I will."

"I won't do that, Clarisse, I won't." I rose, letting him see how his rejection had affected me. The sheet slipped from my shaking hands, and I fumbled for it. Knowing he had seen too much, I looked back at him. He had gotten up and was walking toward me. His lips were hard against mine. He pulled back and asked me to leave. I obliged, wishing I had gotten the chance to make love to a man I felt something for. But I never did get to show him how I felt. He married Anne Elizabeth Bizer in the spring of 1950, despite her pregnancy with what was most probably Rupert's child, and it broke both my heart and Rupert's. Perhaps it was for the best, because Rupert and I had two children by then.

Rupert died last year. Joseph, Philippe, Pierre and I by his side. Anne was killed five years earlier in a terrible car crash. Joseph died with her, in a way. Black had always been his color, but it had taken a new meaning. I had never seen him show so much emotion as he had when poor Charlotte gave him the news. I urged him to retire, but he wanted to stay. He said needed to be busy. I tried very hard to help him move on, and eventually he did. We bonded over the death of our spouses. And, after meeting Mia, I knew that someday it would be possible for us to be together. And I was right.


End file.
